Page 13 of Wrong Number, Right Firefighter
I kissed her one more time before slipping out from under the sheets and tugging on my pants. Even though I had my back to her, I felt the heat of her stare on my backside. I couldn’t hold back a smile, knowing she was watching me.
The morning passed like a dream. I made her another grilled cheese—this time with a fried egg tucked inside—and she made coffee. We ate side by side on the couch, wrapped in the same blanket, stealing bites from each other’s plates and laughing when she spilled egg on her leg and I licked it off without a second thought.
After, we lay on the floor in front of the fireplace, our limbs tangled, her head on my chest. “I don’t want this to end,” she whispered.
“It doesn’t have to.”
She looked up at me, wide-eyed.
“I mean it, Camille. You don’t have to go back to your old life. You don’t have to figure it all out alone. Stay in Wildwood Valley. With me.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “You’re serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
She blinked fast, like maybe she was trying not to cry. “You want me to move here? Permanently?”
“I live ten minutes from here. I make decent money, between my work with the fire department and helping out on the local logging crews on weekends. I can wait for you while you’re finishing school, and after that, we’ll figure it out.”
Her hand crept up my chest, pressing flat over my heart. “You’d do all that for me?”
I shook my head. “Not for you. With you. I want this, Camille. I want you. And I know you’ve got plans. Grad school, fall semester, all that?—”
“It’s online,” she said quickly. “I could stay here and still do everything. Classes, practicum hours—it’s all flexible.”
I exhaled. “Good. Because I wasn’t about to let you drive out of this town without fighting for you.”
She smiled through watery eyes. “You won’t have to.”
And I know it’s fast, and I know people will say we’re crazy, but I don’t care. This feels right. And I’m not walking away from it.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she smiled through them. “You really mean it.”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I do.”
She curled into me, her cheek against my chest, and I felt her whole body relax. Like she’d finally found somewhere safe to land.
And she had. With me. For the rest of our damn lives.
We spent the rest of the day wrapped around each other, napping, touching, talking, laughing.
And that night, as we lay tangled in bed again, I pulled her close and whispered, “You’re not just the right girl. You’re the only girl. The only one I’ll ever want.”
She kissed me, slow and sweet. And in that moment, I knew it with absolute certainty. This wasn’t just a spark. This was forever.
EPILOGUE
SCOOP
Iopened the door and nearly dropped my gear bag.
Camille stood in the kitchen, barefoot, backlit by the late afternoon sun, and wearing a fireman’s uniform. Well—part of one.
The T-shirt was mine. The pants weren’t regulation, but they were snug in all the right places. She had nothing on underneath, judging by the way her nipples poked at the fabric, giving me an instant hard-on.
My mouth went dry. My body kicked into overdrive. And for a second, all I could do was stare.
“Where are the boys?” I asked, kicking the door shut behind me.
